Running Out of Time Read online

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any idea who planted that bomb?” she asked. “Who would want to do something so horrible?”

  “No. Why are you so interested, anyway?”

  “It’s such a horrible thing. Especially after the poisonings.”

  “Maybe you don’t want to work at such a horrible place. If you keep asking so many nosy questions, I think that could be arranged.”

  She backed out of the room, biting her lip to keep from making an angry retort. The phone rang as she was crossing to her desk. “Hello again, Laura.” Donna Stroud had a pleasant voice, though Laura didn’t miss the weariness underlying her words. “Has Parker made it in yet?”

  “Yes ma’am. He came in a little while ago.”

  “Put me through to him, please.”

  Laura transferred the call. She debated listening in on the conversation, but before she could pick up the receiver again, Parker’s voice sounded through the door, loud and clear. “I’m taking care of it, Mother. I’m not some idiot you have to micromanage... I put in plenty of hours for this company. If I want to come in late one morning, I can.”

  The receiver slammed down and seconds later Laura’s intercom sounded. “Get me hard copies of the first quarter production reports.”

  “For which factory?”

  “All of them!”

  She hung up the phone and frowned at Parker’s closed door. Was he trying to inundate her with busywork? Why would he need all these reports?

  Unless, maybe, he wanted to share them with someone else—someone he couldn’t merely forward computer links to.

  * * *

  JACE WAS WORKING the filling line today, monitoring the machinery that was calibrated to inject exactly .70 milliliters of solution into each bottle of Stroud’s Soothing Eye Drops. No one spoke to him as he worked, or even looked at him directly, though he could feel the furtive glances of his coworkers. Word had probably gotten around that the FBI had questioned the new guy, and they were all wondering if he was responsible for the bomb that had killed Lydia Green.

  Jace pretended not to notice the cold shoulder and concentrated on studying the manufacturing process, trying to spot the weak points in the system, where the poisoner might have introduced the ricin without being seen.

  Even with the investigation to occupy his mind, the work was beyond boring. How did his coworkers stand it? He was all too aware that if he had stayed in his hometown, this would have been his lot. It was either that or the coal mines. Or the military. The army had been his ticket out—that and the education the army had paid for. Most of the people he had graduated high school with had opted to stay close to home and take what had looked like good jobs to them. Now the mines were shutting down and half the factories were shipping jobs overseas.

  His sister’s husband had been laid off so many times he had stopped looking for work.

  Jobs like the one Jace was doing now were coveted in a place like Mayville. He had a hard time believing an employee would do anything to jeopardize them, but experience had taught him that people’s motives for wrongdoing weren’t always logical.

  The time arrived for his mandatory break and he headed for the coffee machine. The quartet of fellow workers already in the break room ignored him as he entered, continuing their conversation. “I saw Leo at Bundy’s Place night before last,” an older man with a pockmarked face said.

  “What were you doing at Bundy’s Place?” a redhead with pink glasses asked.

  “Hey, they have a great happy hour,” the man said.

  “Tonight is catfish night,” a second man said. “There’ll be a full house.”

  “Do you think Leo will be there?” a woman with her hair in braids asked. “I’d like to see him, and tell him how sorry I was about his mom.”

  “The bartender is a friend of mine,” the first man said. “He told me Leo has been there every night. Drowning his sorrows, I guess.”

  “Miss Gini wouldn’t be happy about that,” Pink Glasses said.

  “She wouldn’t be happy about a lot of things that are happening around here lately.”

  The conversation ended as Barb entered the room. Her gaze slid over the group, then fixed on Jace. “Well?” she asked.

  Jace tossed his half-drunk coffee into the trash. “Well, what?”

  “Well, did you have anything to do with that bomb?”

  The others stared at him, mixed fear and anger on their grim faces.

  “No,” Jace said. “My wife and I came here to work, not to cause trouble.”

  “The FBI didn’t arrest you,” Pink Glasses said. “I guess if they thought you were guilty, you wouldn’t be here now.”

  “Maybe the feds are watching, gathering evidence,” Pockmarked Face said.

  “They won’t find any evidence against me,” Jace said. “And why would I want to bomb the place where I’d only worked a day? I didn’t even know the poor woman who died.”

  “Some people are just mean,” the woman with the braids said.

  Jace couldn’t argue with that statement. He had met plenty of mean people in his life. But even mean people usually had a motive behind their meanness. It might be a misguided or completely unfounded motive, but in their minds it justified their meanness. Figuring out the motives behind the sabotage of Stroud Pharmaceuticals would go a long way toward finding the person responsible.

  By the end of his shift, a few people had loosened up around Jace. But he was no closer to figuring out how the ricin had gotten into those tablets.

  He was waiting for Laura at the truck when she emerged from the front offices. “How did it go?” he asked.

  “Parker was in a foul mood,” she said. “He didn’t come in until noon, and then he spent the rest of the day keeping me running with busywork. I couldn’t find any way to bring up Leo’s name, much less the meeting at the park. What about you?”

  “At least some of my coworkers no longer think I’m the mad bomber.” He started the truck, the old engine rumbling roughly to life. “Let’s go out tonight.”

  She blinked. “What? Why?”

  “We’re going out. To a place called Bundy’s. I hear they have good catfish.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Let me guess—it’s fried.”

  “Of course.”

  She turned her head to gaze out the window. “I don’t know if I want to go.”

  Did that translate to I don’t want to eat fried fish, or I don’t want to go anywhere with you? Probably both. Too bad. She was stuck with him for the duration. “You do want to go,” he said. “It’s where Leo Elgin has been drowning his sorrows every night this week.”

  She whipped her head back around. “Catfish it is, then.”

  * * *

  BUNDY’S PLACE WAS a tin-roofed, windowless barn of a building at the intersection of two county roads five miles out of Mayville. Ancient oaks shaded the building, and the bass thump from a three-piece band reverberated across the parking lot which, by the time Laura and Jace arrived, was packed with cars and pickup trucks.

  The smell of beer and frying fish perfumed the air as they stepped inside. They found a table with a view of the bar and Jace went to get drinks. He came back with two beers.

  The beer was so cold it made her teeth hurt, but it tasted refreshing. She scanned the crowd, spotting several familiar faces from the plant. “I don’t see Leo,” she said.

  “It’s early yet.” A waitress arrived to take their order and the tables around them began to fill. A few minutes later, their server returned, bearing two baskets full of catfish, fries and coleslaw. Laura stared at the food, suddenly ravenous. “Go ahead,” Jace said. “It won’t bite back.”

  The fish was tender and meaty, the cornmeal coating crispy and spicy, and not at all greasy. She didn’t know when she had eaten something so delicious.

  Th
e band, which had taken a break, began playing again, an upbeat country song she recognized from the radio. Jace shoved back his chair and stood. “Let’s dance,” he said.

  “We’re supposed to be here spying on Leo Elgin,” she reminded him.

  “He hasn’t shown up yet.” He leaned over and tugged on her hand. “Shame to waste the evening.”

  She let him lead her onto the already crowded dance floor. She couldn’t remember the last time she had danced, but Jace made it easy, guiding her through steps she thought she had forgotten, and even leading her through a few new moves. It was a heady feeling, being twirled around the dance floor by a capable partner.

  The music changed to a slow ballad. Laura turned to leave the dance floor, but Jace pulled her close. He looked into her eyes, one brow quirked in silent question. Why not?

  She settled against him. Being so close to him felt dangerous—and thrilling. She let herself enjoy the feel of his arm encircling her lightly, his hand clasping hers. The music was slow and dreamy. Sexy. She closed her eyes, feeling the music wash over her, breathing in the hint of cinnamon that always clung to him and leaning into his embrace. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her, a raw longing in his gaze that made her breath catch and her heart beast faster. She tried to look away, only to shift her gaze to his lips, the pull of them impossible to resist. The song ended and she let the kiss come, his mouth firm and insistent, her body pressed against his.

  A loud whistle, followed by laughter, broke the spell. She stared up at Jace, who looked amused now, and heat flooded her cheeks. Backing away, she hurried off the dance floor to the ladies’ room, where she sat in a stall, trying to catch her breath and pull herself together. She and Jace were supposed to be working together. They were professionals, yet they had just behaved very unprofessionally.

  You’re human, a small voice inside of her whispered—one she didn’t listen to very often. She wasn’t going to listen to it now.

  When she was feeling more composed, she emerged from the stall, washed her hands and studied her face in the scratched mirror. She looked the same as always—a little pale, maybe, but calm. Competent. Not the type of woman who would get involved with a coworker on an assignment.

  But what did that kind of woman look like, anyway?

  She left the ladies’ room, almost colliding with a man in the hallway. He mumbled an apology and brushed past, head down, but not before she had gotten a good look at him. She hurried back to their table, where Jace was accepting an order of two fresh beers from their waitress.

  “You didn’t have to run off,” he said as she settled into the chair beside him. “But hey, I’m sorry if—”

  She waved away the apology and leaned toward him, keeping her voice low. “I just saw Leo Elgin,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “He was headed into the men’s room.” She swiveled in her chair to get a view of the hallway that led to the restrooms.

  “There he is,” Jace said as Leo merged with the crowd, moving toward the bar. Jace tapped her shoulder. “You go talk to him.”

  Laura made her way to the bar, hanging back until the chair next to Leo was vacated. She slipped up beside him and when he glanced her way, she stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Laura,” she said. “I’m new in town. Are you from around here?”

  He looked down at his drink. “I’m not exactly good company right now. Maybe you should find someone else to talk to.”

  “Oh, what’s wrong?” She leaned toward him. “If you want to talk about it, people tell me I’m a good listener. Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest, you know?”

  “Talking won’t help this.” He took a long pull of his beer. “My mother died a week ago. She was murdered.”

  Laura gasped. “That’s horrible! Who killed her? Do they know?”

  He studied her, eyes narrowed. “She was one of the people who died after taking poisoned Stroud’s Stomach Soother tablets.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Laura lightly touched his shoulder. “That is just horrible. I heard about that on TV. Actually, I just went to work at Stroud. I wasn’t so sure about the job, after what happened with those Stomach Soothers and everything, but I really needed the money, you know?”

  “You work in the plant?” Leo asked.

  “No, I’m in the office. I’m Parker Stroud’s secretary.”

  Leo’s eyes widened and he set his beer down with a thump. “Do you know Mr. Stroud?” Laura asked.

  He looked away. “I know him a little.”

  “I’ll admit, as a boss he’s a little intimidating.”

  “Parker is all right. He’s pretty torn up about what happened.”

  “Oh? You’ve spoken to him recently?”

  “No. I just... I just know he’s that kind of guy.”

  “I think if I was in your place, the Strouds wouldn’t be my favorite people right now,” she said. “I mean, aren’t they supposed to have safety rules and stuff to keep that kind of thing from happening?”

  “Yeah, but Parker’s mom and dad really run the place. They won’t let him modernize the way he wants. He thinks he could have prevented this.”

  That was interesting. Were things really more lax than she and Jace suspected? Was Parker asking for all the safety and production reports in order to make a case for changes?

  “Fight!” A roar rose up from the crowd behind them and she and Leo turned in time to see a chair sail through the air and crash against a pillar. Two men were grappling, rolling on the floor, fists flying.

  “Jace!” Laura screamed the name as she recognized one of the men on the floor—who currently had blood streaming down his face.

  Chapter Seven

  Jace knew trouble was headed his way the minute he saw the look in the man’s eye. He just didn’t have enough time to get out of the way. “Are you Jace Lovejoy?” the man—six-foot-four with eighteen-inch biceps—asked.

  “Who’s asking?” Jace stood, hands on the table, out where the man could see them.

  “My name is Shay Green and my aunt was Lydia Green. Somebody told me the cops think you planted that bomb that killed her.”

  “I had nothing to do with that bomb,” Jace said. “And I’m sorry about your—”

  But he never finished the sentence. Green’s fist was already headed his way. Jace ducked, and flipped the table at Green, throwing him off balance long enough for Jace to step up and land a blow that should have ended the fight before it started.

  But Green—hyped-up on grief and adrenaline and the alcohol that came off of him in fumes—hadn’t gotten the memo. He momentarily staggered under the force of the blow, then charged at Jace like an enraged bull.

  The next thing Jace knew, he was on the floor with blood streaming from his nose and Green straddling his chest. Someone else tried to pull Green off of him and Jace took advantage of the distraction to squirm out from under him and knee him in the chin. Green’s howl hurt his ears and he dove at Jace again.

  They rolled across the floor, into tables, dodging people’s feet. Jace would be on top, then Green. A circle of spectators had formed around them by the time they got to their feet again, grappling in the clumsy way of two evenly matched fighters, neither of whom would give an inch.

  “The cops are on their way!” someone shouted, and Jace swore under his breath. He didn’t want to have to explain this to the local police and risk blowing his cover. He shoved Green back. “You got the wrong guy!” he yelled. “Leave me alone.”

  In answer, Green punched him in the gut. Jace doubled over, fighting for breath, vision going gray. Two men dragged Green back, and Jace felt a hand on his back. He whirled, fist raised, to face Laura. She wrapped both hands around his arm and dragged him toward the edge of the crowd. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  He didn’t try to resist, but let her lead
him through the crowd and out a side door to the parking lot. He was dazed and bleeding, and only when he felt her hand digging in his pants pocket did he wake up. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I need the keys to the truck.”

  He pushed her hand away and fished out the keys. “Come on,” she said, taking the keys and grabbing hold of his arm again.

  They turned out of the parking lot just as the first patrol car turned in. Jace leaned back in the seat, eyes closed, trying not to think about how much his face hurt. “What was that all about?” Laura asked.

  “He said he was Lydia Green’s nephew.” Jace’s voice sounded thick and unfamiliar. “He was drunk and had it in his head that I was responsible for the bomb that killed his aunt.”

  “But a fight? What were you thinking? What if you had had to draw your weapon?”

  Jace was very aware of the gun holstered out of sight at his ankle. “I wouldn’t have shot the guy.”

  “What if he had threatened you with a gun?” she asked.

  “That didn’t happen. He used his fists.” He gingerly touched his nose and winced. “He could have broken my nose.”

  She braked hard, throwing him forward against the seat belt. “Do we need to go to the doctor? The hospital?”

  “I don’t think my nose is broken. I just need to get back to the trailer and clean up.” He shifted to dig a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his still-bleeding nose. “What did you find out from Elgin?”

  “He says Parker’s parents are preventing Parker from modernizing the factory. I got the impression he blames Donna and Steve, but not Parker, for what happened to his mother.”

  “The two of them didn’t look all that friendly when we saw them at the lake yesterday.”

  “No, and Leo didn’t really talk about Parker as if they were best buddies. But he did talk as if he knew him well—as if maybe they had been closer once.” She had detected a note of regret in Leo’s voice when he spoke about Parker.

  “Maybe Leo was confronting Parker about Leo’s mother’s death and he was angry Parker wasn’t pressing his parents to do more,” Jace said.